Mark Cohen's Cinderella Story
by The 1000th Kiss
Summary: A romantic little tale starring everyone's favorite filmmaker (PostRENT, Mark/OC).


**I own nothing but the plot line and a few OCs. The Almighty Larson owns the rest.**

November 6th 1993, 3:30 pm, Eastern Standard Time. Also known as, the day my life changed forever. After I had come to my senses and quit working at Buzzline, I filmed documentary after documentary about the Alphabet City and the homeless. I was in a creative slump, so I decided to look for a job—_any _job—that could pay the bills. Eventually, I landed a job with a small production company that primarily dealt with filming weddings and anniversaries. Let me start off by saying, I _hated _my job. The hours were sporadic and I worked for the most evil and hateful human being on the face of the planet. I didn't think she could be any worse until the day we were assigned to film her son's soon-to-be mother- and father-in-law's fortieth anniversary dinner.

I had to pack the equipment into the van by myself and then ride in the back with it. I wanted to tell my boss a thing or two, but I didn't want to get fired. A camera or a tripod would hit me with every bump and turn that was made. I was thankful when the van came to a complete stop.

"Cohen!" my boss, Barbara Wilkes, shouted as she opened the back doors of the van. "Move your ass! We've got a job to do!"

"Yes, Miss Wilkes," I replied. Barbara walked toward the large mansion with her son, Anthony, right beside her, leaving me to carry all of the equipment by myself. I managed to grab three camera bags and a tripod and made my way toward the mansion.

Once I got to the door and stepped inside the house and into the foyer, I saw Barbara talking with a guy who looked to be the same age as her son. The two of them shared a laugh as I approached them.

"Miss Wilkes, where should I—"

"I'm having a conversation here, Cohen!" Barbara interrupted. It was silent for a short while.

"I just wanted to ask where I should put the equipment," I said. I was looking at the floor as I spoke. My friends always asked me why I took so much crap from her, but then the conversation would change after I explained for the thousandth time that I needed the money.

"Oh, you can just put it in the living room there," the guy Barbara was talking to told me. I looked to my left, where he was pointing. "That's where we want to do the interviews."

I nodded and began lugging the heavy equipment toward the living room. I was so focused on not dropping anything that I didn't see the girl come out of the room. We collided and the equipment fell from my hands, falling to the floor with a loud _crash!_ The girl and I both fell as well, she backward and I forward. I prepared myself for Barbara's scolding.

"Cohen, what the hell!" she shouted. "You knock over my future daughter-in-law _and _drop my equipment? Both of them are worth more than you'll ever be!"

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. I wasn't sure if I was apologizing to Barbara or the girl at the time.

"Barb, it's just as much my fault as it is his," the girl told Barbara. "It takes two to crash, you know." She then looked to me. "Are you all right?" I didn't reply in fear of saying the wrong thing.

"Are you going to answer her?" Barbara asked impatiently. The girl turned back to her.

"Our father's been asking about you all day," she said. "Hasn't he, Liam?"

"Oh, yes!" the guy Barbara had been talking with replied. "He said he wants to talk to you. He's right upstairs. I'll take you to him."

Barbara gave me a slight glare before following Liam up the stairs, her son trailing behind her. The girl and I looked at one another. She was smiling at me. I wanted to smile back, but I felt like Barbara could see my every move even though she wasn't around.

"Sorry I ran into you," I told the girl.

"It's not your fault," she assured me. "I wasn't really watching where I was going." I wanted to point out that I wasn't watching where I was going either, but she continued to speak. "I'm Lila, by the way."

"Um, it's nice to meet you, Lila. I'm Mark."

"So you're going to be filming my parents' anniversary celebration?"

"Actually, I'm just in charge of the interviews that are going to be weaved into the video. Miss Wilkes told me she doesn't want me anywhere near the actual celebration." I began gathering the equipment to take it into the living room.

"Let me help you with that." Lila reached for the tripod, but I grabbed her hand to stop her. We both stared at our hands before looking up at each other. As we sat there in silence, we listened to several people descend the stairs.

"Cohen!" Barbara yelled. "How many times do you have to be reminded that we have work to do?" I dropped Lila's hand and continued scrambling to pick up the equipment.

"Right, Miss Wilkes," I replied. "I apologize."

"Lila, come to the dining room with us," a man I assumed to be Lila and Liam's father said. "We're going to talk about the wedding."

I watched as Lila stood up and joined her father, brother, fiancé, and Barbara. Anthony wrapped his arm around Lila's waist. I noticed she flinched a little. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought about following them and asking her why she flinched, but, of course, I didn't do that. I had been yelled at by Barbara enough for one day.

* * *

It was around 11:30 when I finally got home that night. My arms and shoulders were killing me from lugging all that heavy equipment with absolutely no help from anyone. Even though the twenty people I had to interview only had to answer one question, my task for the day took longer than expected. I get that they were related, but I was still absolutely amazed at how long those people could talk about Mr. and Mrs. Crowe. Lila was really the only one I didn't mind listening to. She spoke so highly of her parents and told me about her dream of being as happy in her marriage as they were in theirs. Every so often, she would apologize for rambling. I just waved off her apology and told her to continue.

I could have listened to her talk forever.

The closer I got to the loft, the more my nose was assaulted with the blatant smell of marijuana. I immediately knew Collins was over. Since Angel died, he'd been spending a lot of time at the loft. Roger and I asked him if he wanted to move back in several times, but he would always say, "I'm fine where I am." Roger didn't believe him. I knew he was telling the truth because of one simple fact: I knew how lonely he was. Collins was indeed fine with living in the apartment he used to share with Angel, but he felt so alone without her there. That caused him to spend as much time as possible at the loft with Roger, Mimi, and I.

"Marky's home!" Maureen exclaimed the second I slid the door open. She was sitting on the couch with Collins, who had a cloud of smoke around his head and a blunt in his hand. Joanne was outside on the fire escape talking on her cell phone. Roger's bedroom door was shut, so I assumed he and Mimi were in there. I closed the door and headed toward my bedroom.

"How was work today, man?" Collins asked as he smoked.

"It was fine," I replied. I thought about Lila and forced myself not to smile. "I'm gonna crash. See you guys in the morning."

"Hold up, hold up. Mo, hold my joint." Collins passed his blunt to Maureen, got up from the couch, and made his way to me. He stared at me for a long moment. "How did you say work was today?"

"Fine . . ."

"What is that?" I raised an eyebrow and backed away from Collins. I could never tell if he was acting strange just because he was high.

"What is what?"

"There's somethin' in your voice."

"You're high."

"And you're hiding somethin'."

"Collins, I'm really not in the mood for one of your crazy theories about my life. All you need to know is that work was fine and I'm going to bed."

"There it is again!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Every time you say 'fine' your voice changes. That means work was horrible, or something good happened and you don't wanna jinx it."

"You got all of that out of me telling you that work was fine?"

"My mind is the eighth wonder of the world." Without warning, Collins put the back of his left hand to my forehead and grabbed one of my hands with his right hand. "Your face is warmer than your hands and your hands seem sweaty. This has only happened one other time that I know of." Collins put his hands down at his sides. "You met a girl, didn't you?"

"What?" I said. "That's crazy. You're crazy, Collins."

"Oh my God!" Maureen exclaimed. "Mark, you met a girl?"

"You know what? Technically, yes, I did meet a girl. _But _she's engaged, so there's nothing there. I'm going to bed now. Goodnight."

I rushed to my bedroom before either of them could say anything more. I was too tired to even change into pajamas. I simply collapsed onto my bed, closed my eyes, and thanked God that I didn't have to work the next day.

**Review please.**


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